Last Friday, at around 19:00, an Israeli air strike hit a car in a village in southern Lebanon called Froun. This part of the country is the heartland of the Shia Muslim community, and for decades has been under the sway of Hezbollah, the Lebanese Shia militia and political party. On streets, banners with the faces of fighters killed in battle hang from lamp-posts, celebrating them as martyrs of the resistance.
I arrived in Froun an hour after the strike. Rescue workers had already removed the body parts of the only casualty - a man who was later described as a Hezbollah terrorist by the Israeli military. Despite a ceasefire deal that came into force last November, ending the latest war with Hezbollah, Israel has continued with its bombing almost every day.
Who is going to help us? one resident, Mohamad Mokdad, asked me. The car had been hit as it passed in front of his house, and he was still cleaning up the veranda. There were body parts here and in the trees. He sounded despondent. We're against all this... I just want to live in peace. I don't want parties, he said. He did not mention Hezbollah - which means Party of God - by name, but that is probably what he meant. I don't want anyone.
Israel's bombings, which continue to target Hezbollah, have left residents of southern Lebanon questioning their safety and the role of the militia in their lives. The attacks have shattered long-held views in areas once considered strongholds of Hezbollah as civilians strive for a semblance of life amid destruction.
The ceasefire in Lebanon ended 13 months of war that killed 4,000 Lebanese and 120 Israelis. Despite this truce brokered by the US and France, which required Hezbollah to remove its fighters from southern regions, the instability continues as Israeli forces launch intermittent strikes.
As residents feel increasingly abandoned, some express their frustration with Hezbollah. Hezbollah needs to decide: it either responds to Israel or accepts defeat, disarms and let us move on with our lives. This can't continue, shared one local who captures the growing discontent. Life in these border communities is dominated by fear as Israeli drones hover relentlessly overhead, and the impacts of war linger painfully in neighborhoods where many have been displaced.
In the village of Yaroun, once robust with life, now stands in ruins, where only a fraction of its population remains. We wait for God's mercy, said Nayef al-Rida, a resident, lamenting, This is no life. The uncertainty weighs heavily on their daily existence as they grapple with the harsh reality of ongoing conflict.
